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irritated because the voiceless one had responded to another, "an Arab with hair like ripe wheat and a lion upon his shield? What is his name?"
    "What name bearest thou?" the shaman asked in Arabic.
    "Nial."
    "Ni-al." The secretary wrote it down. "From what place is he? What lord follows he? Whither goeth he? And why?"
    "Patience," muttered Mardi Dobro as he put the questions to the stranger. "Eh, bakshi, he says that he is from beyond the sea. He has no master and he goes to no place."
    "Cha!" The Chinese flourished his reed pen angrily. "How can I write that in the book?" He turned to the Tatar soldier, who was eyeing the lion on the shield with curiosity. "Take thou the weapons from this wanderer from nowhere who serves no one."
    Stretching out his arm, the burly Tatar caught the hilt of the stranger's sword and half drew it. Instantly the man named Nial swung up his clenched fist, striking the warrior where the throat meets the jawbone. The guard whirled and fell, his long -skirted coat flapping about his boots.
    The crowd stared in amazement. Few had seen the blow, and fewer still dreamed that a man's hand without a weapon could knock another down. The Tatar lay without moving, although he breathed heavily.
    Clang! The bakshi struck hard upon a bronze basin hanging beside him, and other soldiers appeared, hastening toward him. Death was the punishment for attacking a Tatar with a weapon.
    The crowd fell away from the man named Nial, who, feeling the menace in the air, raised the lion shield on his arm and drew his sword, a long straight blade of gray steel. But Mardi Dobro sprang in front of him.
    "Move thou not," he commanded, "and say naught."
    And as the guards ran up, the shaman thrust them back with his hands, shouting-
    "0 fools, would you cut down one who brings a gift to Barka Khan?"
    The Chinese who had demanded the stranger's life cried angrily-
    "Where is the gift?"
    "Look at it," retorted Mardi Dobro, his green eyes glowing. "It is the sword in his hand. But touch it not."
    Pressing nearer, they gazed at the long blade, observing that an inscription in gold was set in the gray steel. This was no common sword, and the man who held it faced them without fear or excitement.
    "This," explained the shaman, who knew well how to work upon the feelings of a throng, "is indeed no ordinary sword. You all saw how when this man laid his hand upon it he fell senseless. It is a sword of power."
    "Kai!" exclaimed the listeners. They all feared the power of magic, and who should know more of it than this sorcerer? Only the shrewd Chinese suspected that Mardi Dobro was trying to protect the wanderer.
    "Why, then," objected the official, "does he wear it at his side, if it be truly a gift for the illustrious khan, our master?"
    "Fool! If he did not keep it sheathed at his side, others might come to harm by it, as thou hast seen. Wilt thou stand in the way of one bearing a gift to Barka Khan?"
    Slowly the official shook his head. He wrote down on his record that on the fourth day of the third moon of the Leopard one named Nial had come out of the Western Sea bringing with him a sword of power to be given to Barka Khan-all this upon the testimony of the Mongol sorcerer named Mardi Dobro.
    "And see," he added grimly, "that the sword is given."
    And he motioned to the guards to let the stranger pass into Tana. Promptly Mardi Dobro led his companion away from the crowd into the shadow of an alley. Here he thrust out his bowl, grimacing.
    "Pay me, lordling Ni-al. I saved thy head for thee. Pay now the worth of thy head."
    Nial took from his leather girdle a small wallet and tossed it to the shaman, who untied it and examined the single gold byzant and the few silver coins within it.
    "Is this all?"
    "All." The stranger smiled. "I have no more."
    "But thou hast friends who will lend to thee?"
    "Not in this place."
    Tying up the wallet and stowing it within his girdle, Mardi Dobro stared at the youth with insolent green eyes.
    "Then